


Only Skeleton Bones Remain

by NicoAndTheNineGalaxies



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Dark, Death, I cried writing it, I promise, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, but he does, he turns into a skeleton very slowly, if you don't want to cry, it sounds weird, it'll sound better when you read it, just read it, seriously, sorry - Freeform, then don't read this, they're in love, tyler has trouble saying that he loves josh, tyler is dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoAndTheNineGalaxies/pseuds/NicoAndTheNineGalaxies
Summary: Inch by inch, the skin that wraps Tyler's frame melts away.He doesn’t know what will happen once it’s gone, but he knows that he doesn’t have much time.~~~~~~~~Last night, just like every night, he wished that his eyes wouldn’t open in the morning.  That they’d stay closed and that he wouldn’t have to see, to move, to face another day.But with a sigh, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on his bedroom wall, Tyler stands, his bones creaking, and he pulls on his gloves.  It’s hard to put on gloves without looking at his hands, but with years of practice, he can manage.Even with the gloves on, he can see the bones in his arms, and he feels sick.





	Only Skeleton Bones Remain

Last night, just like every night, he wished that his eyes wouldn’t open in the morning.  That they’d stay closed and that he wouldn’t have to see, to move, to face another day.

But with a sigh, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on his bedroom wall, Tyler stands, his bones creaking, and he pulls on his gloves.  It’s hard to put on gloves without looking at his hands, but with years of practice, he can manage.

Even with the gloves on, he can see the bones in his arms, and he feels sick.  Well, sicker than he usually does.

It seems these days that everything in his life revolves around bones - more specifically,  _ his _ bones, and how he can see more and more of them every time he wakes up.

When his brother first saw the bones - how could he not?  They share a bedroom - he had thought it was just the coolest thing  _ ever. _

“Are those your real bones?” He’d asked excitedly, bouncing a little bit from where he sat on his bed.

“Yes,” Tyler replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling and keeping his face expressionless.  Showing emotion, showing his discomfort...it wouldn’t help anything. He had reason to believe that it would actively hurt him.  So he just stared at the ceiling above him. It was either that, look at the bones, or make eye contact with his brother, and the last two options would be too much for him to handle on any day.

Today, though, Tyler slips out of their bedroom before his brother can even wake up.  His brother, who usually rises before the sun, now sleeps like the dead.

The dead.  Tyler will be dead soon.  He wonders what it will be like.

It’s another bad day.  He wouldn’t be surprised if, by the end of the day, the skin was transparent or even gone all the way up to his elbow.

So that brings forth another dilemma.

When is he going to tell Josh?

“Tyler?”

His mother stands behind him.  He doesn’t turn, but he can imagine her - stern gaze, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as she watches him with his hand on the handle of the front door.  Instead of feeling guilty for sneaking out, Tyler just focuses on the cool metal of the door handle, or what should be the cool metal of the door handle.  How is he supposed to know? It’s not like he can feel anything. Not through his bones. 

He lets go of it, though, and brings his hand to his side, instead focusing on the soft clicking noises he can make if he brings his skinless fingers into the palms of his glove and taps them together.  The sound of bone hitting bone. “Hi, mom.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“Out _ side,” _ Tyler snaps back, although it’s less of a snap and more of a faintly annoyed emphasis on the second half of the word.  He can’t remember the last time he even had the energy to really  _ snap _ at someone.

“Why?”

“Because I might be a freak, mom, but I still have a life.  Well,” he adds quietly after a moment, “for now.”

“You aren’t supposed to leave the house without someone with you.”

Tyler holds up a hand, black-clad with a skeleton pattern on it.  “I’ve got gloves, mom. It’s okay.”

He hears her foot tapping against the ground impatiently, hears it and tunes it out, focusing on his fingers instead.

_ Click, click, click… _

“It’s not cold enough for gloves, and really?  Out of all the pairs I’ve bought you, you had to go with those?”

“It’s not like I can feel the temperature,” Tyler protests.  “I’m just going for a walk. I’ll be back soon enough.”

“You  _ won’t _ be talking to Josh,” his mother orders sharply.

“Yes, mother,” Tyler mutters mockingly.

With a snort, she reaches around him, shoving his hand back down to his side, and flings open the door.

The way she watches him as he walks to the sidewalk makes him uneasy.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and keeps his head down, waiting until he’s sure he’s far enough from the house that he won’t be seen before pulling his phone from his pocket.  She doesn’t know he has it. Josh gave it to him for his birthday, two years ago when they were fifteen, and somehow he’d managed to keep it hidden.

There is only one person in his contacts, one person in his messages, and now one person in his brain.

Who could it be but Josh?

 

_ Lake.  Ten minutes. _

 

Then, as an afterthought - 

 

_ Please. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler has taken off one glove and is running his fingers - his bones - through the water at the edge of the lake.  He remembers when he used to swim without fear of being seen, when he could dip his fingers into the water like this and actually feel it.

That, he decides, is what he misses the most.

That, he amends, and holding Josh’s hand, feeling Josh’s skin, threading human fingers through yellow hair.

_ Josh. _

A twig snaps, echoing from between the trees.

And nothing - no one - emerges.

“I know you’re there,” Tyler says, shaking droplets of water from his bones and pulling his glove back on.

Josh is there, grinning brightly, his eyes squinting the way they always do when he’s delighted, amused, generally happy.

Which, at this point, seems to be more or less always.

“I knew you’d hear me,” Josh says cheerfully.  “What’s up? It’s early.”

“A bad day,” Tyler murmurs simply, turning his head to look at Josh over his shoulder.

“Another one?” Josh asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

Tyler just nods.

“It’s been three weeks, Tyler.  You’ve got to talk to someone.”

He shakes his head slowly.  “I can’t tell anyone. I’ve told you this, Josh.  You don’t know what it’s like for me.”

“Tyler - “

Whirling around, Tyler leans in close to Josh, eyes narrowed.   _ “You.  Don’t. Know.” _

Wide-eyed and tense, staring at the ground, Josh steps away.  Lips pressed into a tight, pale line, he nods stiffly. “Okay.  Fine.”

Where did that come from?  That burst of anger, that red-hot fury?

“...I’m sorry.”

Josh glances up, only for a moment.  “Huh. An apology. That’s new.”

The anger dissipates as quickly as it sprung into existence, and Tyler feels an itch where his skin used to be, on the back of his hand.  An itch to pull off his gloves and pull up his sleeves and show Josh what he’d become in the past month.

But Josh’s sigh breaks through his train of thought.  “That was a bit...passive-aggressive. I’m sorry, too.”

Tyler bites back a sharp retort and Josh continues.

“Neither of us are good at this, are we?”

“I’m being difficult,” Tyler says.  “It’s not your fault. Maybe you’d be better off without me around - ”

“Never, Ty,” Josh breaks in immediately, grabbing Tyler’s gloved hand and pulling it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the black fabric.  “Never. I love you, angel, you know that.”

“I...I - “

“I know you have trouble saying it,” Josh murmurs soothingly, lips still pressed to Tyler’s hand - 

_ Let go let go let go let  _ **_go -_ **

“I just need you to know that I love you.”

“I know,” Tyler whispers, though it comes out more like a whimper, and he suddenly feels very small as he tugs his hand from Josh’s grip.

“Tyler?  Where are you?”

His brother’s voice breaks through their bubble.

“I should go,” Tyler says regretfully.

“Okay,” Josh replies, resting a hand on the back of Tyler’s neck and pulling him in for a slow, soft kiss.  “I’ll miss you.”

“Text me tonight.”

“I will,” Josh promises.

He  _ promises. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler grips the sink tightly.  He doesn’t want to look in the mirror.

He had a nightmare, a dream in which he was almost gone.  All he had left were his eyes, and the last thing he saw was Josh’s skin begin to fade as well, just as Tyler’s had.

And oh, god, if there is one thing he doesn’t want, it was for Josh to have the same fate.

Making his way slowly back to his bedroom, Tyler picks up his phone from where he’d hid it the night before, tucked away in the very bottom of a drawer of pens, playing cards, and pages of poetry.

No new messages.

 

_ Why didn’t you text me? _

_ You promised… _

 

Then he checks the time.  It’s almost three in the morning.  Josh shouldn’t be awake.

Well, by that logic, Tyler shouldn’t be awake either.

And yet here he is.

Regardless of the time, he gets a message back, only two minutes later.

 

_ I know, I’m sorry.  My parents are getting suspicious and I couldn’t risk it. _

 

So that’s it?  Josh didn’t text him because of  _ suspicions _ and  _ risks _ and his  _ parents? _  Tyler’s mother was the one that had forbidden them from talking to each other, so why should Josh’s parents care?

But Tyler feels bad for thinking it as soon as the thought enters his head.

His phone buzzes once more.

 

_ I’m sorry, angel.  Really. _

 

That only makes Tyler feel worse.

He’s not an angel, despite what Josh says.  On days like this, he feels more like the devil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler remembers everything so,  _ so _ clearly that it hurts.

He remembers skipping stones by the lake, a stranger slipping on the wet rocks beside him, anything but graceful.

He remembers laughing, looking over to see the stranger sit up, run a hand through his neon-yellow hair, and glare at him playfully.  No real anger, only amusement.

He remembers the first words he heard come out of Josh’s mouth.

“Hey, stop laughing at me!”

He remembers that Josh was laughing, too.

He remembers inviting Josh over to his house two weeks after they’d met, and how he showed up at the door with his usual grin that made Tyler’s heart flutter and put all rational thought on standby.

He remembers his mother’s narrowed eyes - well, he remembers  _ ignoring _ his mother’s narrowed eyes, grabbing Josh’s hand and pulling him upstairs.

He remembers his mother confronting him the moment Josh had left, asking him what Josh was to him - a friend or a boyfriend?

He remembers not knowing what to say, because even he wasn’t quite sure.

He remembers meeting Josh at the lake the day after, and he remembers their first kiss.

He remembers his mother coming to look for him and seeing their first kiss.  She was furious.

It wasn’t the first time she’d hit him, but it was the first time that really stung, both inside and out.

Tyler remembers everything so,  _ so _ clearly.

He wishes he didn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s on your mind, angel?”

They are sitting on the shore of their lake, Tyler cross-legged, tense, and playing with the rocks.  He is deep in thought.

Then there is Josh, with his legs stretched out in front of him, relaxed.  He is plucking the petals from a little yellow flower. Tyler feels like that flower, like he’s the stem, the center, and the petals Josh is pulling away are reminiscent of his sanity.  Or his skin. Either one works.

“Just...remembering.”   _ I don’t want to remember. _

“You know that only hurts you.  You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I know.”

It’s hard to fight his impulse to tell Josh, especially now that, if he pulls up his sleeves, he can see the bones of most of his arm.

It’s moving faster.

“Ty?”

“Hm?” Tyler mumbles, running one finger over his forearm and feeling the bones there.

“...What  _ do _ you remember?  When you - when you zone out like that?”

Tyler just shakes his head, a dark little smile tugging at his lips.  “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?” Josh asks.  “Explain it to me. I want to know.”

“But you can’t,” Tyler replies almost desperately.   _ “I _ barely know, Josh.  How do you expect me to explain it to you?”

“I want to help you,” Josh insists.  “Let me...let me come stay with you, just for a little while.  Let me see it firsthand so I know what to do.”

Tyler’s fist clenches around the rock he’s been fiddling with at his side.  “I’m sorry, that’s...that’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“It just - it isn’t.”  He stands abruptly, brushing sand from his jeans.  “I’m sorry, Josh. I have to go.”

He practically sprints away.

“Wait!”

Josh calls after him but Tyler doesn’t slow down.

“Just - text me, okay?”

“I will,” Tyler calls back.

He  _ promises. _

Just like Josh did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler doesn’t text Josh.

Josh doesn’t show up at the lake the next day, or the one after that, or any day for two weeks.

The bones in Tyler’s legs are visible now, too.  He notices as he’s scrolling through two weeks’ worth of unanswered texts and calls to Josh, and his nightmare springs to mind.  His nightmare of Josh suffering the same fate Tyler will.

It’s been a recurring one lately, one Tyler could definitely do without.  He doesn’t sleep anymore.

But he keeps showing up at the lake, day after day, in the hopes that Josh will be there too.  Eventually. Because he has to be there at some point, right?

And - eventually - he is.

He is there with a bruised, swollen eye and a cut on his lip.

“What happened to you?” Tyler asks, hoping he’s managed to inject enough concern into his voice that he still sounds somewhat alive, somewhat present.  Wearing shoes directly over bones, without skin or socks or anything, is a very strange sensation. Not that Tyler can feel much anyway.

“It’s nothing,” Josh murmurs, waving Tyler away.  Brushing him off. Somehow, that hurts more than knowing that he’s dying.

Tyler hears an echo of himself in those words.  Didn’t he say the exact same thing to Josh four years ago?

“It’s not nothing,” Tyler insists.

“You don’t know,” Josh whispers.

And oh, god.  It sounds like Josh really might be going through the same thing Tyler is.  And Tyler doesn’t like it one bit.

“Then explain it to me.”

Josh shakes his head, a little sadly.  “Is this what you feel like on your bad days?”

“Yeah.”

Josh sighs, pearly teeth tugging at his already-bleeding lip, tearing it open.  His tongue runs over the wound, lips slick with blood. “It kind of sucks.”

Tyler laughs, no real humor behind it.  “You’re telling me.”

“I’ve got to go,” Josh says suddenly.  “Try to eat more, okay? I can see your ribs.”

No ‘Ty.’  No ‘angel.’  No ‘I love you.’

He just stands and leaves, and Tyler trudges home alone.

Josh was right.  His ribs are visible through his shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His mother keeps him in the house, locks him in his room, brings him food a few times every day.  They both know it’s getting close. Tyler wants to stay in his room because he doesn’t want to prolong this torture.  He just wants his skin to melt away so they can bury what’s left of him and grieve what an unimportant person they’ve lost, though he feels that the only person that will grieve beyond the funeral is Josh.

His mother, though...she wants him to stay here because she thinks he’s a freak.  She doesn’t want word getting out about her freak child. She just wants him to die so they can bury what’s left of him and forget he was ever there in the first place, and honestly?  Tyler can’t bring himself to care.

Well...he can’t bring himself to care until he notices that his chest, right over his heart, is staying alive.  Flesh and blood and - well, yes, there’s bone, but he can’t see it. And his eyes are still around, too.

His eyes and his heart.  How lovely - he’ll probably get to watch himself die.

But then he remembers.

He  _ remembers. _

He remembers and he wonders how he could ever forget.

_ He never said goodbye to Josh. _

When was the last time he’d told Josh he loved him?  It’s been months.

He’s about to die anyway.  It’s not like he cares if his mother is angry, so he just breaks his window and makes his way precariously down to the ground.

Then he is running, half his face covered by a scarf and the other half covered by a beanie that he’s pulled down so low that it almost covers his eyes.

Josh’s front door is already wide open, and Tyler runs inside.

Josh stand  - no, Josh  _ cowers -  _ in the hallway, his mother looming over him, a hand raised.  She shouts something, a slur Tyler will never, never repeat, and she brings her hand down, striking him across the face.

And then she spots Tyler, and her face twists from anger into horror.

Why is she horrified?  Is it because Tyler saw her, or is it because his scarf has slipped through loose, disbelieving fingers and fallen to the ground, exposing bone?  

Josh clutches his face, and there are tears streaming down his cheeks, and he looks up and he sees Tyler.

He sees a skeleton with eyes.

Tyler is just glad Josh doesn’t scream.

“You do know what it’s like, then,” Tyler whispers, and Josh takes a step forward, pulling Tyler into his arms before either of them can speak another word.

“Josh, I’m - “  Tyler breaks off with a tortured whimper.  He doesn’t want to say it. Saying it will only make it so much more real.

“What happened to you, angel?” Josh murmurs, and they’re both crying now.

“I’m dying,” Tyler finally manages to choke out.  “I’m - Josh, I’m going to die. I don’t want to die.”

“Get away from him!”

Josh’s mother grabs Josh’s shoulder, pulling him back, and - and oh, god, she’s got a knife.  She has a _fucking_  knife, and it’s pressed to Josh’s throat, and why,  _ why _ doesn’t Josh look scared?

“Run,” Tyler hisses to Josh.  His voice is fading. His vision is fading.  He can feel his heartbeat fading, too.

“Will you be able to run with me?” Josh asks, tone even but voice shaky.  

Tyler blinks slowly and shakes his head.

_ No. _

“Then I’m not running,” Josh says.  He sounds so sure of his decision.

This is exactly what he didn’t want, Josh dying too.  But he watches the blood dripping from the slit Josh’s mother carved into his throat, and he knows that if he still had eyes, he’d be crying again.

“I love you, angel…”

It’s just a whisper by what used to be his ear, and an arm wrapped around him.

“I love you,” Tyler tries to say.  He doesn’t know if it comes out, but Josh’s arm tightens around him and he thinks the message got through.

And then, he knows his heart is gone.  The heart that once carried so much love, so much hope, the words to songs and the memories of pain and loss and delight and gifts and Tyler’s  _ whole life _ which may as well be synonymous to the boy lying next to him, bleeding to death, and then - 

Josh stops breathing before Tyler does, and he goes limp.

Tyler hears a buzz, then a high-pitched whine, and then…

Absolutely nothing.

They are gone, and only skeleton bones remain.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very, very sorry. I don't know where this came from. It popped into my head a few days ago and I've worked really hard on it. It's okay if you hate me now. I kind of hate myself too.  
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments or on my Discord server!  
> https://discord.gg/rKzBm6r  
> Galaxy ||-//


End file.
